


Whispers

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, Secret Relationship, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 08:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The fear of discovery keeps their kisses fleeting—until it doesn't.





	Whispers

I.

Her fingers were dripping with blood, sticky and cloying, the scent all but suffocating in the tent. His wound shouldn't have been that deep, not with the layers and layers of armor he wore. She gritted her teeth, fingers pressing down harder on the bandages on his stomach.

He let out a sound, his eyes finally fluttering open only to close again.

"Morrigan...?"

He could barely get out her name, his voice fading before he got to the end of the word.

If she didn't stop the bleeding...

Morrigan pressed her bare hand on his wound and poured all of her power into the only healing spell she knew. It was a weak one, all but useless in battle and way too taxing for her liking but as the spell slowly tugged at her and drained her own life force out of her, the blood flowing from his body finally started to ebb, clotting on his stomach in a sticky mess. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow but even, and Morrigan slumped back weakly against the support beam behind her. She gathered what little strength she had left, secured some bandages on his partially healed wound and moved her lead-heavy limbs to get up.

"Thank you," Alistair whispered, faint but alert.

She looked back at him angrily, at his closed eyes, his pained frown, his bloody fingers. He had been clutching at his stomach when Cousland and Zevran had brought him into her tent and told her to heal him like that was her job while they had gone back to camp to fuss over an unconscious Wynne. 

Morrigan grabbed a rag from her bag and started vigorously cleaning her own hands.

"'Twas foolish of you to block the blow with your own body. What do you think your shield is for?"

The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Sorry for saving your life, I guess," he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

She had no idea why the fool had stepped in front of the blow the Hurlock had aimed at her. Risking his life for her, for someone he hated, was the kind of noble sacrifice she could never make sense of, so fundamentally alien to her way of thinking as to defy logic and leave her fuming. Had he died, she would have cursed his name for rushing into a senseless death, for placing that burden on her, for valuing her life more than his own.

She shouldn't have cared at all... and yet.

She leaned over him, close enough to see the amber flecks in his widening eyes, and frowned intently at him.

"Don't ever do that again."

He drew in a sharp breath and Morrigan's eyes flitted to his mouth, to those plush lips parting in shock. She wrenched her gaze away as soon as she realized her mistake but it was too late; dazed though he was, realization was clear in his eyes. She moved to draw back but his bloody fingers grabbed her arm, pulling her back over him, his lips meeting hers in a feverish kiss.

She buried her fingers in his hair, intent on pulling his head back and away from her but she lingered, hesitant, before angling her head to deepen the kiss.

He was maddening, a valiant fool, ready to sacrifice himself when it was he he should have protected instead. To think _this_ was the reason he had looked death in the eye.

She steeled herself and broke the kiss, placing a hand on his chest when he strained to blindly follow her with his lips.

"Not a word to anyone about this," she said, voice brooking no argument.

"Like they'd believe it," he said, eyes lingering on her mouth.

A shadow fell across the tent, careful footsteps walking past them. Morrigan sat back just as Cousland entered, his face grim and exhausted.

"Everything alright here?" he asked, tiredness dragging out his words, the storm in his eyes all but begging for an affirmative answer.

"He is well," Morrigan said with a nod.

"Almost well," Alistair corrected her, the humor in his voice making him sound reassuringly lively.

"That's great," Cousland said. "Wynne is stable as well, for now. I promise I'll talk to you tomorrow but if you don't mind I'll just..." he made a vague gesture towards the main camp.

"Go before you fall asleep standing up," Alistair said.

Cousland nodded gratefully and tried to smile but even that seemed to drain him. He wished them good night and left, only silence remaining after him.

Alistair spent the night and the following day in Morrigan's tent, recovering from his wounds. By the time they broke camp, he was well enough to move around, helping the others where he could. He foolishly sought her gaze as they packed up, his interest plain as day on his face, until she pulled him aside to talk some sense into him. 

If she made it up to him later by kissing him again (and again and again), no one had to know.

II.

Alistair surveyed the snowy landscape of the Frostbacks under him with a frown, his gloved fingers tapping out a tune on the wall he was leaning on. The wait had been so long he idly wondered if she was going to show up at all, if he had misunderstood the curt note she had slipped into his palm when they had exited the war room.

Seeing faces from their past behind the war table and all around Skyhold was a little unnerving. He felt like he was under the watch of knowing eyes, like they could figure out his secret just by looking at him.

Boots scraped behind him and he turned around, the faint scent of herbs hitting him before he saw her.

She looked beautiful in the peach light of the setting sun, her striking eyes vibrant and piercing, her lips curling darkly at the corners. He had to force himself to appear indifferent.

"Morrigan."

"Alistair," she said evenly.

She looked meaningfully at the guards standing along the walls as she passed him by. When she disappeared behind a door leading to the stairwell, Alistair followed her wordlessly.

Morrigan was waiting for him down a flight of stairs, one hand resting on the railing like she was impatient to move on. He kept eye contact with her as he descended the stairs, his blood pumping faster with each step that brought her closer.

His hand clenched tightly on the hilt of his sword. He was supposed to keep it together at least until they were somewhere private but no amount of Chantry indoctrination could discipline him enough to resist.

He glanced around the stairwell as he stepped up to her, making sure they were alone, and wound an arm around her waist, crowding her into a shadowed corner of the landing as his lips found hers in a searing kiss.

Her gasp was muffled against his mouth, dying away in the silence of the tower. He drew her into his arms, flush against his body as they kissed, a shiver running along the back of his neck as her sharp nails raked through his hair. Watching her across the war table had been slow torture, so close yet just out of his reach, almost like she had been taunting him. Knowing her, she had probably done it on purpose.

He frowned, his lips brushing against hers one last time as he pulled back.

"You ignored me in the war room," he whispered against her lips. "That hurt, you know. All that time apart and you _ignore_ me. You couldn't spare me even a cursory insult?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"It has only been a month, Alistair," she said but went willingly enough as he pulled her away from the cold stone walls, his hands resting on her waist.

"Mmm, no, it was longer than that. At least five weeks. That's way worse."

He hoped joking about it would divert her attention from how serious he actually was. They had gotten used to spending time apart over the years, sometimes not seeing each other for several months, a rare letter their only contact, but the distance still ate away at him.

"I am certain you suffered terribly in my absence," she said with a skeptical lift of her eyebrow.

"Oh, I did. I'll tell you all about it in detail later," he said with a smirk and kissed her again.

She returned the kiss but started nudging him backwards, toward the stairs, trying to get him moving so they'd get to his room in time but he was too reluctant to part with her—until someone made a choked noise behind them.

They flew apart, both of them out of breath, but regret was quickly cooling Alistair's fervor.

"Uh, Inquisitor—"

Trevelyan put up her hands in a placating gesture and sidestepped them, walking down the stairs backwards.

"Pretend I wasn't even here."

Alistair feared for the woman's life for a second but the Inquisitor didn't miss a step. She turned and ran down the stairs fast enough that Alistair suspected she might have been more embarrassed than he and Morrigan combined. Not that Morrigan was particularly embarrassed, if the displeased look in her eyes was anything to go by.

"'Tis strange you would forget about our agreement in the worst possible moment," she said sternly.

"I just—" He cut himself off, knowing full well she was right. "Will her knowing get us into trouble?"

"I shall talk to her later but I do believe our secret is safe with her." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stairs. "But you shall make it up to me."

III.

Weisshaupt loomed even larger when viewed through the eyes of a raven, the shadows of its massive towers spreading like ink across the moonlit ground. Alistair's form on the ramparts was obscured by darkness but he stood where he usually did, far enough from the guards and the light of the torches that no one took notice of a raven landing on the battlements he was leaning on.

"Hey," he murmured, lifting a finger to brush through the feathers on her neck. No matter how many times Morrigan had told him she didn't have the mind of an animal when she was transformed, he failed to restrain himself from petting her.

She flitted onto his shoulder and they made their way down the wall, careful to avoid the patrolling guards.

"You know," Alistair started on a low voice as he stepped into the empty library, looking around. "we have these small brown birds in the castle. They're kind of cute but no one really pays attention to them. You should learn to transform into one of those instead of making me sneak a giant raven in here all the time. The others will kill me if they find out I'm letting an outsider read these books, and then they'll kill me again when they figure out I'm doing it because you're the mother of my child who I'm not supposed to keep in contact with."

Morrigan took flight and landed on a long table nearby, transforming back. She made herself comfortable and leaned back on her hands, her eyes flashing in the moonlight.

"What you are forgetting, Warden of mine, is that we shall not be discovered."

"So sure of yourself," Alistair said as he stepped closer. "Sooner or later, you'll get in trouble for that." He placed his hands on either side of her. She arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Can I get my reward now?"

She finally let a smile tug at the corner of her mouth and closed the distance between them. Alistair hummed in his throat, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Morrigan slowly wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Having access to one of the biggest libraries in Thedas was a perk of the relationship she hadn't foreseen but the books could wait. They had more important matters to attend to.

The handle of the door rattled behind them and they broke apart. Magic flared around Morrigan and Alistair turned as the heavy door slowly creaked open. An older Warden walked in, her one good eye sweeping across the room before settling on him.

"Care to explain what you are doing here at this hour, Warden Alistair?" she asked, stern and cold.

Alistair aimed a glare at the pleased-looking, yellow-eyed cat hiding under the table and seemed to prepare to get his ears boxed.

IV.

Eerie silence hung over the battlefield, the Wardens' banner fluttering wearily in the barely stirring wind. The bodies littering the ground lay motionless, the first carrion crows gliding across the fields with solemn grace.

It took Alistair several tries to kick the lifeless Qunari off his body, its massive weight tumbling across other corpses. He hissed as he sat up gingerly, rubbing the back of his neck as he surveyed the battlefield. Everyone had known the Qunari attack on Tevinter would eventually reach the Anderfels but no one had expected the raid to extend to the border territories quite so quickly. Weisshaupt had gotten entangled in the conflict before the Wardens could organize properly, finding themselves in all-out battle that had left the Order depleted even more than before.

Alistair got to his feet, leaning heavily on his sword before sheathing it. His left side felt like it was on fire, likely bruised ribs rather than something life-threatening. He took a deep breath, regretting it when his muscles protested, and took towards where their original camp had been. He could hear Morrigan yelling at length somewhere ahead of him but he was too far away to make out her words.

A small group stood in the burnt-out remains of their camp, soldiers from Tevinter and some of the Wardens aiding them. Morrigan was arguing with a Tevinter woman who seemed to be their leader. Aedan Cousland, newly returned from his journeys and commanding the forces like he had never left, stood behind her with an uneasy expression on his face and tried to get her to calm down. Morrigan took no note of him.

Alistair stumbled up to them, feeling almost too self-conscious to interrupt.

"What's going on?" he croaked, clutching at his side.

Morrigan's eyes widened and snapped to him, the inferno of her anger flickering out in an instant.

"Alistair..."

She rudely pushed the Tevinter woman out of the way. She was at Alistair's side in a moment, hands cradling his face and lips meeting his. He made a surprised noise in his throat and lifted his gloved hand to smooth her hair out of her face, letting himself get lost in the kiss. They hadn't had enough time to talk before the battle, a fleeting look over the ramparts their only goodbye; he suspected they wouldn't ever make the same mistake again.

"What was all that yelling about?" he asked when they parted, quiet enough that only the two of them could hear it.

"They claimed you were missing, likely dead," she said. "I insisted they search harder."

Alistair chuckled, comfortable warmth flooding him. Morrigan had the weirdest ways of showing she cared.

"Wait, did I miss something while I was away?" Cousland asked, gaping. Alistair and Morrigan turned to him, pulling away from each other. "Since when have you two of all people...?"

"Since the Fifth Blight," Morrigan stated matter-of-factly.

"No way. That was... fourteen years ago."

"Time sure flies," Alistair said, entirely too cheerful. He lifted a hand, motioning at his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Is that a hint of gray I see in your beard, old friend?"

Cousland wagged his finger at him in warning but the humor was clear in his eyes.

They joined the group as they slowly filed out of the makeshift camp, helping with the cleanup.

"I don't get it," Cousland said some time later as they sat around a fire, eating what passed for their meager dinner. "Why keep it a secret?"

Alistair's eyes met Morrigan's before he shrugged and went back to his food.

"Partly because Morrigan didn't want to risk Flemeth getting to her through me, partly because the Order might figure out I have a son. And, you know, everything else about his conception."

A grimace crossed Cousland's face that was simultaneously strained and apologetic.

"It'll pain me not to share the gossip with everyone I know but I guess that'd be a stupid idea. I promise I'll keep it a secret," he said. His gaze traveled their camp, a gasp leaving his lips. He hurriedly stuffed the last bits of his food into his mouth and scrambled to his feet. "I'll be back. That's the Altus I need to speak to."

They watched as he wiped his hands on his pants, hurrying after the Tevinter man.

"At least we shall have to hide from him no longer," Morrigan said and popped a slice of apple into her mouth. "Sneaking around in camp has always been troublesome."

Alistair gave her a wry smile, leaning closer to steal a slice from her plate.

"I don't know, it was fun while it lasted."

**Author's Note:**

> The Weisshaupt scene is based on Dragon Age: Last Flight, an official tie-in novel by Liane Merciel. The Tevinter/Anderfels scene is based on wild guessing.


End file.
